like I am.”
“Great,” June said. “I’m not clear on what the hell that is, but let’s pretend it’s going to get my brother out of the Institute, since you keep bringing it up.”
Cindy plunked her teacup on the table. “The Paranormal Alliance is the only organized group in Chicago made up entirely of paranormal humans. We hate the Institute.” She focused a sour, tight-lipped look on Micha. “And Institute lovers.”
“They’re supposed to be doing some greater good for their people,” Micha said, “but they mostly spend their time harassing the Institute. They have a lot of reasons. Some don’t trust the Institute. Some don’t like that they’re uncovering paranormal secrets. Some believe their culture should be kept underground as it’s always been, away from the ‘normals.’”
June resisted the impulse to point out they had the right idea. He probably had enough salt in his wounds.
“I don’t like the Institute,” Robbie said. “I’ve never trusted them. Do you know ninety percent of the Institute’s staff is non-paranormal? What does that say?”
Micha opened his mouth, but then snapped it shut.
“So these guys are your friends.” June looked between them, brow furrowed. “But you’re an activist who supports—supported—the Institute?”
“I believe a good activist understands all sides of a conflict.” Micha spoke reasonably. “We may have differing views, but we both want safety and rights for the paranormal. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“We’ve known Micha forever,” Cindy said. “And he’s right, we both want the same thing when it boils down to it. But”—she leaned forward, eyeing Micha—“we don’t allow normals into the Paranormal Alliance.”
“Not that I want in it,” Micha said.
It sounded like a war, but instead of two countries fighting, it was sixty of them, all with their own set of self-righteous ideals. People like Micha wanted equal rights for everyone. And June hated everyone equally.
“So you guys are extremists,” she said to Cindy. “Kind of like that SNC group. Just on the flip side.”
Cindy gaped. “We are not like them!”
She sprang up and charged at June. June braced herself, calculating quickly she could take Cindy out at the knees with a swipe of her leg, maybe, if she acted fast enough. Cindy stopped in front of her, though, and snatched up the bottle.
“We’ve never used violence to get our point across,” Cindy said.
Behind Cindy, Robbie made a shifty glance to the side.
“Go sit down.” June, leg lifted defensively, bobbed her foot at Cindy. “Get outta my face.”
“Watch your mouth.” Cindy pointed a finger at her.
June scowled after her as she retreated, and then narrowed her eyes at Robbie, finding something strange about the way he’d reacted to Cindy’s statement. Maybe he wanted to bash a few skulls in. She could get behind that.
“So can you help us or not?” Micha asked. “We have to get June’s brother out of the Institute.”
Cindy sat back down on her stool and twisted the cap off the whiskey bottle. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna take you to see someone.” She took a drink straight out of the bottle.
“Someone powerful,” Robbie said. “His name is Sam Haain.”
Micha groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead. “Oh God. Not him.”
“Yes, him.” Cindy sat up straight with a bright smile.
“Who’s Sam Haain?” June asked.
Micha lowered his hand. “He’s the leader of the Paranormal Alliance. If you want to know why his members are so…adamant, it’s because their dogma and paranoia trickles down from the top. I don’t know if Sam Haain is his real name. Maybe his mother had a terrible sense of humor. But he certainly enjoys being the ominous specter of the disenfranchised and mistreated.”
June didn’t know why, but the way Micha talked heated her panties up. Normally, if someone were in her tattoo shop spouting crap like that, she would tattoo “loser” across his forehead and shove him out the door. Maybe having a hot body to distract from the piousness made all the difference.
She reminded herself today was Micha’s wife’s funeral and she needed to be respectful.
“Sam is a very effectual man,” Cindy said, overloud. “Are you calling us zealots?”
“The last thing I want to do right now is talk to Sam Haain.” Micha deftly sidestepped the question. “There’s got to be another way.”
“You name it.” Cindy shrugged.
“Sam is our best bet right now, Micha,” Robbie said. “We had to do a lot of groveling to get him to agree to this meeting.”
“Now, I don’t buy that at all.” Micha snorted. “Sam Haain is always looking for an opportunity to be affronted.”
“I think he handles the bullshit in this city quite gracefully,” Cindy said. “He’s had to deal with people hating and fearing us ever since the Institute opened, and he, unlike you, never bought into their ‘benevolence.’ I admire his poise and rationale.”
“Two constructs I’ve never associated with Sam Haain,” Micha said, “but if you say so.”
“Sam has all kinds of connections,” Robbie explained. “With city officials, the media, independent researchers… Not all paranormal scientists work for or believe in the Institute.”
June actually knew this, but she figured Robbie could dig around in her brain like a gopher and pillage her childhood memories. The Institute was a big scary entity, but the world had always been full of scientists studying the paranormal who didn’t need the government to tell them to go ahead. Chicago just decided to make everything official.
“Great.” June lifted her hands. “So this guy is going to, what? Bust into the Institute with guns blazing? Help me get Jason out of there?”
“I hope not,” Micha muttered.
“You have to speak to him,” Robbie said. “This afternoon, Navy Pier. He won’t meet anywhere else.”
“I want to go, too.” Micha sat forward. “Much as Sam Haain rankles me, I want to hear what he has to say.”
“You can’t go out in public.” Cindy gasped, wide-eyed. “I know you don’t remember, but they killed your wife, Micha. That makes you next on their list. I didn’t even think you should have gone out last night, and that was sneaking around, not out in public.”
“They expect me to be hiding. They won’t look for me in a public place. Besides, today is my wife’s funeral, right? So they’ll probably be watching for me there.”
“He’s got a point,”
